and here is my ticket to hell

Wyatt's newest thing is that his bones are breaking. "I can't walk, my bones are breaking" and throws himself on the ground (or would throw himself on the ground if the place where he wants to throw his tantrum is clean and not wet, because he *hates* being wet or being dirty, ever.)

All five of us are heading into church, slightly late because well, there's five of us going to church on Sunday morning, timing is all relative, right? We are picking up the pace as we head closer towards the entrance.

Wyatt stops about half a block before getting to the front door. "My bones are breaking, carry me!" I roll my eyes and grab his hand "no, you are fine".

"I can't walk" Wyatt screams.

"You can and you will" I respond and keep walking away from him.

He still stands there, halfway between the car and the front door.

I turn around, smile and wave to him.

A passerby laughs saying "we've all been there... I like that you waved".

I chuckled a little with her.

Wyatt has now moved behind a light pole, like his body is thin enough that I will not be able to see him. He probably thinks that I should just forget about him 'he must have just gone back to the car, turned on the tunes and is kicking back until we return from church'. Because, he would think that. This is Wyatt I'm talking about.

Both of us are sticking to our guns.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking and I need to get Wyatt in for Sunday school.

I walk up to him and grab him by the sleeve. He pulls his arm into his jacket. He's screaming "I can't walk... I can't walk!"

I keep dragging him up the stairs, towards the front door, when finally he throws himself down on the ground (remember, clean and dry). His coat is halfway on, his shirt is pulled up and his stomach is showing. He's still crying "I can't walk, my bones are broken, you *have* to carry me!"

I'm breathing deeply, trying not to scream at him in the house of God (Amen).

He's still crying... and crying.

Then a woman rolls up. Yes I said, rolls up, because she's in a wheelchair.

Wyatt's crying and yells to anyone that will listen "I can't walk... my bones are broken".

Swallow me up, I'm going to hell right then as my child tells this poor older woman that *he* can't walk.

It only continues to get worse.

She makes him an offer...

"I'll trade you my one good leg for both of yours" she says with a wink, "Ha-ha!"

I grab Wyatt by the arm again, pull him up and run away as fast as I possibly can walk away, not before thanking her for being so sweet to my son though.

A son that will be taking me to hell (probably) in the very near future.